


He Is Melting (Or Maybe It’s The Sun)

by apricotozier



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Caring Dave, Dissociation, Emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, Nightmares, No Beta, Panic Attacks, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, Sickfic, Time Travel Fix-It, We Die Like Ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricotozier/pseuds/apricotozier
Summary: Klaus is melting, and his throat aches, and his bones are crumbling and floating in melted flesh. Dave isn't here, he can’t see him, his eyes are closed but Dave isn’t here, and he’s melting, the sun is melting and Klaus can’t breathe.Or: Klaus is definitely not sick, and Dave is always right.





	He Is Melting (Or Maybe It’s The Sun)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for the lovely Lexi (@klaushismydaddy over on twitter) who wanted Dave looking after a sick Klaus. She got that, and also a heavy dose of angst, because I am incapable of writing anything without it.
> 
> Please heed the tags, any trigger warnings are there!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, folks!

He’s swimming through bright yellow, and something like paint, or blood, slides through his fingers, syrupy and hot. God its so hot. White flame licks at his skin, and he watches as it melts off in thick globules. He is melting, or maybe its the sun. 

There's a wailing sound in his ears, shrill and high pitched, and it’s echoing through his head, sending him spinning and gasping for breath he doesn’t have. He stands, and the candle wax-paint-blood pools around his feet, and it’s rising, or he’s melting, or the sun is.

‘Dave!’ He joins the wailing, and it  hurts,  god it hurts, and where is Dave?

The melting sun reaches his knees and he’s melting, he’s sure of it, bones and flesh and skin vanishing and congealing into yellow paint.

‘Dave!’ He’s crying, he thinks, and the salt stings his cheeks, he’s melting, he’s melting. Or the sun is.

‘Klaus- Hey, Klaus'

His chest is heaving and creaking and the paint slides up to his waist. He's melting, he’s melting, and the sun is melting.

‘Dave." his voice gives out, and it's suffocating now, and it hurts, god it hurts, it hurts. He’s trying to scream but he’s choking on sun-paint-melted rib-cage and it’s in his lungs, it’s melting his lungs and he can’t breathe.

'Klaus, love, you're okay. It’s just a dream.’

He can barely hear him through the wailing, and his voice is distant, distorted through the melted sun-skin-paint.

‘Dave, Dave.’ he chokes out, and his ribs splinter and float in his chest

‘Klaus, love, breathe. You're okay, you’re okay.’

‘I can't I’m-'

‘You can. Came on, copy me. You're okay.'

He blinks through yellow haze and his eyes meet cool blue, and it rushes through his blood like the ocean.

‘Dave?'

‘Hey.'

‘Dave the sun is melting' he whispers, like it’s a secret, afraid that someone will hear. Afraid that saying it might make it so, and his skin will fall away in clots of paint.

'It's not sweetheart, I promise. It's up in the sky waiting for morning.’ Dave runs his hands through Klaus' hair, and his eyebrows knot in concern. ‘Christ, you're warm.'

Klaus curls into Dave’s side, and his chest feels hollow, lungs collapsing into flame. ‘I’m fine, let’s just go back to sleep.’

‘Klaus-‘

‘Dave, come on, I’m fine, see?’ He stretches his lips across his teeth in what might be a smile, he’s not sure, his skin is melting. Dave’s eyes fix on his, and he brushes salt from his cheek ‘Alright baby. Wake me up if you need to, okay?’

Klaus looks up at him ‘Okay.’

He worries it sounds too much like a promise.

_______________________

 

By the time Klaus’ skin is reattached, the paint has frozen into his veins and turned black. His bones ache and crackle under his skin; melting, Klaus supposes, would have that effect. Dave is awake, tracing the flickering light on Klaus’ shoulders.

‘Did you get any more sleep last night?’

‘Not really.’ He manages, before ash climbs up his throat and he chokes. Dave sits them up, and Klaus whines at the loss of heat against his side. He’s fucking freezing. Dave puts the back of his palm against Klaus’ forehead and sighs.

‘Klaus, you’re sick, you should’ve let me stay up with you.’

Klaus scoffs, and pulls the covers closer to his chest ‘And have us both sleep deprived? And I’m not sick, it’s just cold in here is all.’

‘Klaus baby, you’re burning up.’

‘Seriously, Dave, I’m all good. I’ll just put a sweater on and I’ll warm up.’ And he all but falls out of the bed to grab one from the closet. He pulls one over his head, it’s green and soft, and the sleeves bunch up in his hands. He spreads out his arms ‘See? I’m fine. Nice and toasty.’

‘Klaus, that’s mine, and it’s inside out.’ Dave says, and he’s smiling, all fond and gooey, and Klaus really really loves him.

Klaus throws a t-shirt at his chest, and struts over to the door ‘Didn’t you hear darling? It’s all the rage these days.’ And he ignores the spinning in his head as he twirls around, grabbing the door frame when it threatens to fall off his shoulders.

‘Sure, and you’re not sick.’ Dave mutters, getting up to follow Klaus as he heads downstairs.

‘I’m not sick!’ he shouts back from the landing. 

_______________________

 

‘Woah, you look like shit, you okay?’ Diego says as soon as Klaus walks into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. Klaus rolls his eyes at Ben, who’s sat opposite, and goes to grab a mug from the cupboard.

‘Peachy, thanks.’ 

‘He’s sick.’ is all Dave says, and hands him the milk.

Klaus groans, tips his head back, and very nearly stomps his foot for dramatic effect ‘I am not sick!’ And it comes out in this whiny plead of a sentence ‘I’m just tired, is all.’

He hands Dave his coffee, and sighs, opening the cupboard. 

‘Yeah, because you were up all night with a fever.’

‘You’re lucky this is the last strawberry pop tart or it would be getting thrown at your head.’ Klaus mutters, without looking at Dave, as he puts it in the toaster.

‘And you love me.’ Dave says, and kisses him on the forehead. Klaus leans into the touch.

‘Yeah, that too.’

‘You two are disgusting.’

‘Shut  up, Ben!’

_______________________

 

They’re sat on the couch when Klaus’ head starts to swim. Dave is leant against the arm with a book in his hand, and Klaus is tucked into his side, legs underneath him. There’s a woman groaning in the corner, and Klaus really needs her to shut the hell up, before his head splits in two and his melted brain spills all over daddy dearest’s carpet.

His shoulders feel heavy and his hands are numb, and really, Klaus should say something, but his mouth feels stuffed with cotton, and it’s all he can do to close his eyes and hope it goes away. Nausea creeps into his chest like the paint had, and  god  Klaus hates throwing up, he really doesn’t want to throw up. Something squeezes tight in his lungs, and he whimpers, screwing his eyes shut.

Dave shifts next to him and tilts his face down towards Klaus, cups his face in his hand ‘Hey, you alright? What’s wrong?’ and Klaus opens his mouth, but he can’t breathe, he doesn’t want to throw up, he really really really doesn’t want to throw up.

‘You’re gonna throw up?’ And Klaus shakes his head frantically, tears spill onto his cheeks and he curls his arms around his stomach. ‘I know you don’t want to baby, but do you feel sick?’ He doesn’t want to he doesn’t want to, please please  please.

‘I know, I know. You’re okay. Here’s what we’ll do, we’re gonna head upstairs to the bathroom, and Diego’ll fetch you a glass of water, okay?’ Klaus swallows and nods, and slowly clambers up from the couch ‘Just breathe, Klaus, you’re okay.’

‘Dave, I don’t want to I don’t want to. Please don’t make me, please don’t.’ His words run together and slur through vowels, his tongue feels like lead in his mouth. He thinks he might be melting again ‘Dave I’m melting, I’m melting.’

‘You’re not melting, baby, promise. And I know you don’t want to, but you have to, alright? You’re gonna be okay.’ And he’s got his arm around Klaus’ shoulders as they climb the stairs, and Klaus almost believes him.

But then that goddamn woman all but  screams  and it’s hoarse and blood-curdling and Klaus flinches so hard he nearly falls backwards, slams his wrist hard on the banister as he grapples for purchase. It sends a jolt of nausea through him and it’s all he can do to not throw up there and then. He sobs, collapses into himself half way up the stairs. The paint’s up to his ears now, in his eyes and his mouth and  how the hell is his heart beating so fast when it’s melting?

The woman is still screaming, and Klaus rib-cage is vibrating, crunching and collapsing into itself ‘ Shut up! Please shut up shut up shut up!’

Dave’s hands are on his face, he thinks, but his eyes are closed, and he can’t feel his skin. Someone’s talking, and it calms him for a moment, before the woman starts up again. What does she have to scream about, anyway? She’s dead.

Vanya’s here now, too, she’s speaking, but he can’t make out the words through the melted static. God he’s so cold. ‘Klaus you’re okay, you just have to let it happen, okay? You’re alright.’ And he’s really going to throw up, and he doesn’t want to he doesn’t want to, he swallows and swallows but it does nothing, he cries out, and then there’s a bowl in his hands, and he’s choking, he can’t breathe he can’t breathe,  get it out get it out get it out.

There’s a hand rubbing circles on his back, and another in his hair, and then all at once it’s over, and ice cold air burns his lungs. He slumps forward, and somehow ends up landing in Dave’s chest. He breathes in peppermint and black coffee, feels his cheek against the soft cotton, his feet against the mattress. There’s a glass on his lips and he swallows, blinks through tears and pushes himself back. He’s in his bed, now, doesn’t remember getting here, but Dave’s to his side, and Vanya’s sitting in the chair opposite.

‘Hey, V.’ He mumbles through syrup, and his throat aches. He swallows.

‘Hi, you okay?’ She smiles, and god, he’s missed her, where had she been? He missed her.

‘I mm-missed you.’ His lips won’t do as they’re told, and he blinks, swallows, breathes. Dave’s hand’s still on his back, but his skin’s crawling and itching and he wants it  off.

‘Off. Ple- ge’ off.’ He pushes and pushes and his chest ties in knots, he whimpers, and his balance topples him sideways. Dave grabs hold of his wrists and he flinches, hits his head on the bed post, hard.

‘Hey, hey hey hey. You’re okay, no one’s touching you, you’re in your bed, you’re okay.’ Dave pleads, hands held out in front of him, like he’s talking to a wild animal and not his frightened boyfriend.

‘I know.’ Klaus snaps, whines, his teeth bang together, and god why is his skin  burning ? He runs his nails over the backs of his hand, and it stings, but the burning stops, and he does it again, whimpers when his fingertips come away wet. He’s sober now, clean for the first time in a millennia, but there’s blood caked under his fingernails and black paint in his lungs, and  god  he’s never felt so dirty.

‘Klaus stop, you’re hurting yourself.’ There’s static under his skin, and he’d take melting over  this  any day, because his whole body feels electric, bones jolting and hitting against each other, his jaw aches, and his chest is burning.

‘Klaus, breathe. Okay? Just breathe.’ That’s Vanya, he knows because her voice sounds like the wind. He wraps his arms over his head. ‘In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.’

It might be years or minutes before his lungs work again, and his skin feels cool and his head is clear. He reaches out for Dave, wraps his hand around his wrist ‘Dave.’

‘Shh, just breathe, we’re gonna try and sleep for a bit, okay? Can you lay down?’ Klaus does, and there’s a thick quilt over his shoulders. Ben has replaced Vanya in the chair, and he watches as he flickers blue, for a moment, until his eyes shut, focuses on the rise and fall of Dave’s chest behind him.

 

_______________________

 

When he wakes up, the sun is setting. Dave is reading in Klaus’ chair, and he watcheshim, just for a moment. Watches his lips mouth the words on the page, the way his eyebrows furrow and relax. Dave looks up, and his eyes meet blue. The sun is orange, mellow and solid behind the buildings. ‘How you feeling?’

Klaus just nods, pulls the blanket tighter against his shoulders as he moves to sit against the headboard. His head throbs and his throat is tight, but he feels better, he thinks. Dave smiles, fond and gooey, and Klaus really really  loves  him.

‘I love you.’

Dave just looks back down at his book, smirk on his lips. ‘Not sick, huh?’ is all Klaus gets in response, and he gasps, forces his lips down to stop them curving into a grin.

‘I’ll get Five to zap you back to 1968 if you carry on.’

‘You just told me you loved me!’

‘You didn’t say it back!’

‘I love you,’ Dave says, and he sits on the edge of the bed, wraps an arm over Klaus’ shoulders and kisses him on the forehead. ‘I love you I love you I love you, a thousand times, I love you.’

The sun is melting, and Klaus is not. Klaus is in the ocean, in a meadow of flowers, in the arms of a man who he loves, a thousand times, he loves.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya! If you liked it, then please leave a comment or kudos, that would be really lovely. This isn’t beta read, so let me know if there are any mistakes, too!  
> You can find me on twitter @capripeach, so do come and say hello, and let me know if you have any prompts/requests.


End file.
